


Goblin Clause: A Labyrinth Christmas Story

by breejah



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Pining, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breejah/pseuds/breejah
Summary: Little beknownst to the world at large, Jareth the Goblin King and Santa Claus have a pact to make sure all children are happy each year to avoid any undue wishes for the Fae King. This year, however, Santa is missing in action.Jareth, coerced by Santa's wife, dons the red suit and the job for one night - but someone's on his naughty and nice list, and he's not looking forward to delivering the message.





	Goblin Clause: A Labyrinth Christmas Story

**Author's Note:**

> Labyfic Christmas Challenge for the LFFL group on Facebook. Implied smut only, rated T, filled with fluff, humor, role swapping (I seem to have a thing for this) and hopefully enough holiday cheer to amuse you through this attempted one shot. It's meant to be a quick and dirty type of story, so hopefully you like!
> 
> PS - I like the theme of Bad Santa, prepare for curse words.

_ _

* * *

_ Sweet Danu, it’s bloody cold,  _ Jareth thought as he pulled the lapels of his coat tighter. He hated this arrangement sometimes, more specifically where it brought him at certain times of the year, glancing over at the hobbling dwarf at his side who had been picked from his subjects to join him this year. He smirked, at least pleased that the little miscreant looked even more miserable than he was – shivering in the knee-deep snow that covered almost half of his shorter, stockier body.

The pair waited, having knocked moments before, shivering and not speaking to one another, waiting for the door to the small house a few hundred yards away from the towering workshop behind them in the distance to open. When it finally did, Jareth almost blurted out the first blistering insult to his acquaintance that came to mind at how long it took him to answer, but bit his tongue, surprised to see  _ her  _ standing there.

“Good eve, Lady,” he gritted out, shivering, ruffling the edges of his jacket to cast off the snow that had clung there, beginning to form ice crystals. “Is your husband in?”

She didn’t waste any time letting them in, opening the door wider and stepping aside. Jareth was too happy to move indoors, closing his eyes as he stepped in, savoring the warmth, tapping his boots at the side of the door before doing so. Behind him, he heard the muffled curse of his companion, along with a few taps and shuffling of clothes as well, before Hoggle followed him inside.

“He ain’t here,” Mrs. Claus said once they were standing in her entry way, hands resting on her generous hips. Jareth blinked, surprised and also annoyed, having come all this way for what now seemed like nothing.

“Beg pardon?” He asked, doing his best to keep the edge out of his tone, despite knowing it wouldn’t move the older woman an inch. She was the wife of the biggest toy maker in any dimension – and he’d met plenty, given the nature of his job – so she was no timid maid.

“The bastard’s not here,” she replied again, eyes narrowing. “Gone off and quit again, or so he said.”

Jareth stared, disbelief etching into his face, as Hoggle did what he tried not to do, muttering with a loud curse at her comment.

“The fuck you mean  _ he quit?  _ He’s fuckin’ _ Santa.  _ He can’t quit.”

The look he sent his companion made the dwarf blink, then shrug a shoulder with no apology in his gaze. He sighed, glancing back towards the woman, who merely stared at Hoggle like he was an insect ready to be squashed by her boot heel. He smirked, knowing  _ that look _ all too well from their arrangement over the years. He hadn’t warned Hoggle of her temper and lack of patience – even moreso than his notoriously short leash – and relished seeing the dwarf draw up short, seeing her lethal stare.

“ _ Language!”  _ She hissed, staring at Hoggle like he had skinner her favorite reindeer. Hoggle blinked, glancing to Jareth, who remained stalwartly silent. 

“But you just called him a bastar--” Hoggle started, only for the woman to scowl even deeper. Hoggle blinked again, backing up a few steps, sensing too late he’d already crossed a proverbial line. 

“I don’t care if you are Jareth’s escort here, if you don’t watch your tongue, I’ll put you to work, give you something to keep you busy so you can learn some damn manners,” She replied, scowling down at Hoggle, who nearly ducked behind Jareth’s coat tails.  _ Once a coward, always a coward, _ he thought as he he sidestepped, watching Hoggle nearly stumble as he was once more standing in the direct path of the old woman’s odious glare. He didn’t even feel a smidge of guilt, staring at the interaction with a sense of glee, just to enjoy the dress down to the snarky little scab from someone other than him.

“Er, yes ma’am,” grumbled Hoggle, shifting nervously on his feet, before casting Jareth a brief glare. He merely arched an eyebrow, pointing to the woman, who wasn’t done.

“Go on,” she replied, clearly wanting to hear more.

Hoggle blinked, continuing to add to the apology, until the woman looked satisfied. “Sorry, I won’t do that again. You know – curse. In your presence. About your husband.”

“Loud mouth for one so small. You could pass as an elf, actually,” she harrumphed, glancing back towards Jareth, missing Hoggle’s look of brief outrage. “Are you sure you really need this fool? When he left, a whole bunch of elves quit. Stupid labor unions. I could really use the extra set of hands.”

The look of horror on Hoggle’s face almost,  _ almost  _ had him saying yes just to be rid of the little scab, but he remembered Sarah’s fondness for the wretch and placed a hand on Hoggle’s shoulder, tugging him behind him. “As it is, yes, unfortunately I do. He will, however, remain firmly mute for the remainder of our stay.  _ Won’t you,  _ Hogwart?”

Hoggle rapidly nodded, not even scowling Jareth’s way when he deliberately mispronounced his name. He inwardly chuckled, enjoying the quiet, filing away to bring him along next year for their annual visit.

“Well, if you ever happen to change your mind…” Mrs. Claus shrugged, glancing back his way before prattling on. “In any event, there’s no toys for your wards this year, sorry King, and before you even bother asking - yes, the shit has hit the fan. We’re behind quota - not even close to the quota.You might as well warn your counselors and denizens, because you know what  _ that  _ means.”

_ Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.  _ He should have known - he had a sinking suspicion the news was bad when the old magician had failed to respond to his usual missives before their yearly meeting. 

“Do I ever,” Jareth groused, slouching faintly. “I appreciate the honesty, at least.”  _ I fucking hate Christmas. What’s it those humans say? Oh, right. Bah humbug.  _

Every year, Jareth and Mr. Claus would meet shortly before Yule began, since his popularity had begun to soar several decades ago. Jareth had realized, only recently, that the magician’s work impacted his own role more intimately than he’d ever planned – once children began to understand the meaning of coal, wishes and gifts. The man’s power was similar to his own, despite him still existing here on the Earthern plane, separated by magic from Jareth’s own realm in Faerie. Jareth, a portal guard for his realm – Goblin King, to those who knew him from Earth – took those unwanted items and gave them homes with his people, mostly children, if humans stumbled upon the right words to say. Spending any length of time in the Underground changed them, aged them slower, and boosted his people’s spirits. Once upon a time, humans had been a superstitious bunch, and his title as a crib robber had stuck in legend. Mostly, he didn’t mind - only once feeling a sense of frustration in regards to his title and a certain mortal young woman. 

Despite all this, Jareth didn’t mind his role. He had a home, a purpose, and most of the time that satisfied him. However, Christmas was absolute hell - at least since the invention of consumerism in all its current horrific glory. If Jareth had the ability to adjust time by decades, not just mere hours, he’d have considered murdering the man – or groups of men – who thought it a stroke of marketing genius equating the Claus’ work with wishes decades ago.

_ Fucking bastards.  _

As it stood, If Mr. Claus failed to produce the quota of toys demanded out of children, coal would take their place if the child resorted to deviousness in retaliation. Coal usually meant wishes in the long run for spirited young children, not understanding the seriousness of their words - wanting to get vengeance on their brothers, sisters, cousins, sometimes even frogs! – and the magic that summoned him, not specific to a certain person, place, or thing, would be dumped on him. More often than not, Jareth took his job seriously, trying to make sure their requests to wish their siblings or friends away was sincere (which they often weren’t, to his dismay) and every Christmas season, he was nearing more and more to what the mortals called a nervous breakdown. Why, just last week, he had two dozen German Shepherds in his throne room. For once, he actually missed the chickens and goblins. When those had been there, no one could help him contain the chaos, even those with addled brains, and he had barely managed to rid himself of the smell even now.

_ And now the bastard has the nerve to have one of his crisis’s again,  _ Jareth swore inside his head, teeth gritting, feeling a headache already beginning to work its way inside his skull.  _ I do not need this right now. Didn’t he just have one three decades ago? _

“What do you need from me?” He finally ended up replying, glancing at the woman who stood there, all fire and brimstone, no less amused at her husband’s antics than he was. She smiled then, the expression too harsh to be called sweet, but he knew she was relieved at his offer. He hesitated, fearing that look. 

“Own any red coats?” She asked, tipping her head to the side.

Jareth blinked, eyes widening.  _ Oh hell no…  _ “You can’t be serious…” He started, watching as the woman grinned again – this time, the expression one of pure evil.  _ Shit.  _

“Oh, dear Goblin King, I am most certainly am,” she replied, grabbing his elbow and pulling him deeper into the house.

With a barked cry of demand, Jareth harshly called Hoggle to his side, the dwarf blinking and taking off after the two of them both. If he was going down, so was that scab of a dwarf. 

* * *

He stood there, feeling like an utter clown, the scent of peppermint wafting up towards his nostrils as those around him worked and ate - fueled more by sweets than even his own kind. By the look on Hoggle’s face - lips pinched together, as if holding in a laugh - he looked as stupid as he felt. Mrs. Claus defly ignored him, sipping casually on a mug of hot cocoa, as she watched the little elf-like minions of her own work around him.

“This isn’t going to work,” he muttered for at least the twentieth time, as the four elves continued to work tirelessly around him, tugging red velvet, brass buttons, and a white scarf that looked suspiciously like cotton candy over the lower half of his face. On top of his glorious hair was that hideous hat, the fuzzy white ball dangling close to his jaw, his nose itching with the urge to sneeze. 

_ What in the nine hells am I doing? Why is this happening to me?  _ He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, as Mrs. Claus barked at the elves to do another adjustment to his wardrobe. Hearing the shuffle of Hoggle’s feet had his eyes snapping open and narrowing over at the little dwarf.  _ And why now? With  _ **_him_ ** _ here? _

Hoggle, for his part, looked close to tears with the effort it seemed to take him to hold in his laughter. Narrowing his eyes further, he cast Mrs. Claus what he hoped was his most friendly smile. “And my escort? Shouldn’t he also be... _ festive _ ?”

Hoggle backed up, eyes bugging, but not before two elves tackled him and began to cover him in equal parts green and red crushed velvet when Mrs. Claus seemed to agree. He smirked beneath the scarf, enjoying watching the elves stuff Hoggle into an outfit similar to their own, bells lacing his shoe strings and hat.  _ That’ll teach you, you little bastard. Revenge is such sweet, sweet victory, isn’t it?  _ He thought, before glancing back at Mrs. Claus who was looking over him thoroughly, inspecting the elves’ handiwork on his own ridiculous attire, stealing some of his briefly jubilant mood.

“Hm?” She looked up, a pair of measuring ribbon in her fingers, rolling her eyes, returning to his earlier complaint about the outfit and their plans he’d been wrangled into. “Of course it’ll work. If you do your job right, no one should even see you in theory.”

Jareth was about to argue that he was lacking a certain...girth… to satisfy the lookalike requirements when the old woman at his side scowled. “You have any idea how many times I’ve had to do this? Suck it up and grow some balls, son,” she barked, looking perturbed, then directed more elves to adjust a few spots at her request. 

Jareth blinked, glancing her way, and she arched an eyebrow while turned to the side at her demand so she could inspect the adjustments they made. She seemed satisfied enough – with pillows stuffing his surcoat - that he’d pull off the job. She continued, answering the question on the tip of Jareth’s tongue. “Welcome to the Claus’ dirtiest little secret – he’s got performance issues. Almost guarantee most of the years that were slim pickings for coal and easy on you? It was probably me out there, doing  _ his bloody job. _ ”

“I…” Jareth blinked, at a loss for what to say. Suddenly, fury hit him hard - both for her and for him.  _ That bastard’s been lying to me!  _

By the look in Mrs. Claus’ eye, he felt a flicker of embarrassment for not knowing and begrudging respect for the woman standing in front of him. “It would seem, Lady, that I’ve been handling business with the wrong person.”

That made Mrs. Claus smile, but she shrugged off his apology, switching to a subject he would have rather avoided. 

“You married to that girl yet? You know, the one you liked? Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked, as the elves began to pack up, all while giving Hoggle a serious look of side-eye, with the way he was laid sprawled out on the floor, eyes staring glassily at the ceiling, in utter defeat. One of the elves - a female, if Jareth had to guess - sniffed in offense and flounced out of the room, not even budging Hoggle from his self-pity. If Mrs. Claus hadn’t asked him the worst question she could have asked, he might have even been worried about the little scab.

Jareth bristled, shaking his head. He’d only ever entertained the idea of marriage once in his life and thanks to that bastard Jim Henson - who he had inadvertently met one night at a bar, drunk, and spilled his story to - the entire world knew of  _ that _ colossal fuck up.

_ I miss the days when people thought I ate children, or turned them into goblins,  _ he fumed, feeling mortification creep up his face.  _ Or at least the days when everything wasn’t turned into a godsdamned children’s movie. You bastards remember Ariel? Sea foam ending? Nadda - you get a woman meeting a man, falling in love with him, and living happily ever after. Fearsome Goblin King who eats children? Forced to look like a rock star -- well, that part wasn’t so bad -- and do sing-a-longs through the whole movie in pants that -- well, weren’t all that bad, either, actually. BUT STILL! THE INSULT! _

She smirked, glancing back up to his face, untucking a pair of reading glasses from a pocket in her apron.  _ Please don’t tel me you’ve seen it, too?  _ When she whistled a snippet of  _ that song,  _ he wanted to crawl under a rock and die. 

_ Oh my sweet Danu --- Fuck. My. Liiiiiiiiiife. _

She patted his wrist, gesturing to a seat by the fire, which he quickly availed himself of, using the padding in his suit to sink further into his own wallowing misery. Briefly, he looked back at Hoggle, noting he hadn’t moved, almost wishing he could sprawl out beside him. Mrs. Claus settled beside him, glancing down over something in her hand -- a parchment of sorts, that ever so slightly twinkled as she moved it -- continuing on with her destruction of his pride and person. “You mean to tell me you  _ still  _ haven’t talked to her since the run? What’s it been - ten years? Twelve?”

“I don’t see where that has anything to do with this,” Jareth replied starchily, hoping she got the hint to drop it. 

When she looked back at him, arching an eyebrow, she clearly didn’t, her lips twitching briefly as she looked over his further slouching in the chair. “Sit up, child, it’s not good for your back to do that.”

Rolling his eyes, he did, but shifted nervously under her inspection. It unnerved him, how she made him feel like a lovesick teenager, but her harsh expression grew kind -- then amused. He stiffened, instantly knowing that look. “Oh, I see why now. The movie, am I right? She’s seen it, then, by the look on your face. I bet she was mad as spit. You’re scared to talk to her, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.”  _ Yes, I am. _

He’d heard what she thought of the movie and their relationship when he’d observed -  _ snooped _ , really, but that wasn’t a very Kingly word and he refused to use it - on her friends after it had aired in theaters. They hadn’t even gotten her age right - she’d been twenty-one when he had met all five feet, ten inches of her, for Danu’s sake.  _ And what a sight it was. _

“Uh huh,” she replied, able to tell that by the look on her face, she didn’t him for a second. He couldn’t blame her, feeling heat creep into his cheeks once more, wilting back into his pillowed mess of a coat and vest. “Well, you’re in luck, GK. Life has been waiting for this moment, seems. Here.” She leaned forward, handing him that glimmering parchment, not moving until he took it warily and dropped his gaze. Staring at it too long made his eyes ache, the magic taking a moment to get used to, but when he narrowed them where she pointed at – sure enough - there it was, her name, along with Toby’s.

  * _Sarah Ann Williams - Good_
  * _Toby Joseph Williams - Naughty_



_ Oh no, oh no no no no no –  _ “Uh, I don’t think this is wise....”

“Why not? You miss this girl, right? Besides, you do realize her brother is on the naughty list, right? You know what that could mean…” Mrs. Claus relied, narrowing her eyes his way and thrusting her hands on her hips from where she sat perched by the fire. 

Almost immediately, the thought of Toby wishing his sister away appealed to everything in him - south of his belt buckle.  _ Focus!  _ He told himself and cleared his throat. “Still, I think it best you handle that one. Surely you can work it in?”

“I’m not sure you’ve realized how close to  _ Shit Creek  _ and  _ Fuckedville  _ this train and paddle boat are, son,” Mrs. Claus said, tapping another section of that magical list, where it listed toys produced against toys wished. 

The numbers there made him want to pass out. 

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he sighed.  _ What’s the worst that could happen? _

* * *

Sarah was furious. Not only was her family and best friend late, they’d failed to pick up the hired actor she needed to pull off the surprise at the Christmas gathering she was hosting for friends and family. Every year, they hired a Santa to ‘surprise’ them at dinner and seeing the looks on the kid’s faces was worth the extra hundred it cost her.

But not if there was no Santa like she’d promised.

“You’ve got to be joking, Steve!” She hissed, turning to glare daggers at the clock as she spoke harshly into the cell phone, ducking into the other room to continue the conversation in private. Everyone was waiting, hungry and antsy for food, wine, and presents, and they were  _ still  _ on the road. “I can’t even get started, with the Santa being missing. You promised me you had it handled this year!”

“ _ Listen, Princess, today’s been a nightmare, so take it easy on me! _ ” Shrieked her best friend since junior college, almost sobbing into the phone. Sarah fell quiet, listening to her best friend, turned actor, now hair dresser, practically lose it on the other end of the line, hearing Karen’s harsh reprimand, followed by Steve’s hushed next words, probably hoping her family wouldn’t overhear. “Your little shit head of a brother stole my keys, then the cat got ahold of them and it took us over an hour to find them, okay? I said I’m sorry! What else can I do? Your father is driving so fast, we’re lucky we won’t get arrested if a cop spots us.”

She sighed, closing her eyes, just as the door swung open, revealing the Santa actor she’d been waiting for. Blinking, she jerked to a stand, feeling profound relief sweep through her as she quickly snapped her fingers, motioning for him to come stand beside her. She’d called the service earlier, praying that the answering machine message wasn’t true - that they had unexpectedly closed for the day due to plumbing issues - and heard the call to send him on alone, without her family picking him up as they always did.

_ Thank fuck one thing is going right this evening,  _ at least relieved that the kids invited wouldn’t be disappointed.

The actor jolted, having not looked her way, intending to thrust the red bag of goodies under the tree from the other end of the abandoned room, looking her way warily for a moment and then trying to pretend he didn’t hear her, edging for the door. She frowned, annoyed, remembering to mention the man’s odd behavior to the service in the morning before she marched over, taking his hand in hers. 

“No, wait!  _ Stop! _ I said I wanted you to  _ greet _ the guests, not sneak in and dump the presents. Geez, they must be desperate this year, you’re not too good at this, are you?” Sarah grumbled, tugging him towards the door, as she switched her frazzled attention back to the phone. “Steve, you’re in luck, it looks like the hiring service I hired got my message. Santa just arrived. You’re going to be late, but I can’t hold them off any longer, they’re about ready to eat the tablecloth. Just get here when you can, okay?”

“I told you it was a mistake to invite the wardrobe apartment,” Steve teased, making her roll her eyes, remembering when she had invited the other seamstresses and their families from the theater she loved. Her mother, Linda, had gifted her a lot of money upon her divorce from Jeremy, just to get back at him, and Sarah had used the money to purchase half ownership in the little theater down the road. It had made her mostly happy over the years, too consumed with projects and plays to focus on much else in her life, except for the holidays, they were special. “Oh, hush, you jerk. Just get your bah humbug, lovable ass here, preferably in one piece, okay?”

Not even bothering to wait and hear his response, Sarah hung up, sagging briefly against the stranger in the Santa getup, casting him a relieved smile. “You made it, thank  _ god. _ ”

“Beg pardon?” The man asked, but she was too busy hastily pushing him towards the door, red bag and all, into the waiting dining room, where the others were gathered. Bursting with him through the door, she grinned wide, watching as several children turned their way, eyes wide and luminous. 

“Would you believe it, kids? Look who I found!”

_ “Santa!” _ They all shrieked at once, jumping from their chairs and running to hug the man at her side. Letting go of his arm she drifted back towards the other adults, watching the scene with amusement for a moment before giving them the thumbs up to dig into the food and wine waiting for them.

Too relieved and frazzled to think, she joined them.

* * *

Jareth stared at her profile as she walked away, hips swaying, exhaustion and joy written on her face. Admiration for what she’d done registered with him as he focused on the kids sitting there, waiting for him to dispense the gifts, so he reached in the bag and withdrew each one - handing them over, knowing the magic would bequeath them with their heart’s desire, knowing from reading the parchment that they’d all earned good gifts this year. 

“Here you go, little Kyson,” Jareth said, brushing his fingers against the boy’s brow, learning his name. Kyson’s eyes instantly went wide in awe and adoration and Jareth couldn’t help but smile as he handed the boy his gift, watching him snatch it and take it with the others to the kid’s tables, tearing at the wrapping there.

Standing, he watched the adults mill around tables on the far right, grabbing plates of heaping food and glasses of wine before settling. As if on autopilot, he went by each one, setting their small parcels that he willed out of the bag, with a touch of his own magic, to keep them occupied as he stared at Sarah nursing a glass, standing by the window, looking outside with a frown.

Each adult looked amused, then surprised, as they opened his gift. Several murmured their thanks, but all he could do is briefly nod his head, eyes never leaving hers. It didn’t bother him that Hoggle and the reindeer were outside, probably freezing, but this had been their last stop for the evening - desperate to get back to his Kingdom, in the event he’d fouled this up along the way and would find himself swimming in wishers. From his brief check-ins with Mrs. Claus, who was nowhere near finding the Mister, he’d done well, but he still felt nervous, nearly passing out as he arrived at Sarah’s doorstep.

She lived in a different part of the country now, in a little quaint house with a big meeting-style offshoot around back, and he wanted to see her before he left, give her a gift to remember him by, even if he didn’t have the nerve to say much, but then she'd grabbed him and drug him into a festival of sorts -- one she'd organized, if he had to guess. The state of her heart, doing this for these people, humbled him once more. He had no misgivings, knowing he was still well and fully in love with her, and this only reminded him of it - and his sorry state of being too nervous to talk to her once again.

She turned as he approached, but luckily the window was dark, the lights in the room cast aside by the drapery, and he reached into his bag and hand her his gift. 

“For you,” he murmured, swallowing thickly, as her brows rose in confusion. Taking it from his hand, she thanked him, glancing back and seeing all her guests - the adults included - ogling their various gifts. Surprise infused her features, but as she was turning to tell him something, a flash of headlights caught her eye, pulling into her drive. She turned, and he swallowed, leaving as soon as she was distracted, too nervous to say much else, fearing he’d give himself away.

_ Happy Yule, Precious. _

* * *

Sarah turned back, moving to thank the man who’d brought everything she asked for, and then some, but he was gone, making her blink in surprise. Setting her wine glass aside, intending to look for him, she heard the front door open and close, followed by the rustle of coats and her family’s calls, along with Steve’s.

Setting the gift he’d handed her aside, she moved to the other room, surprised at even  _ more _ gifts waiting for them all. Next to them stood her parents, little brother, and her best friend, all torn between exhaustion and hunger. Laughing, she motioned them into the other room. “Come in and eat,” she called, watching smiles tug their faces, as they headed into the other room to join in on the fun.

*

Hours later, she was bone-tired, sprawled across her bed, draining the last of the Merlot she’d found after all the guests, including her family, had left. The house was a wreck, but it could wait until tomorrow. She smiled, thinking back on the evening and how pleasant it had been. Even her brother, who’d been having trouble in school with friends lately, seemed less withdrawn after he’d opened his gift - a gaming console. She had winced, knowing her parents didn’t want him to have it, but the look of sheer pleasure that brightened his face made them bite their tongues and nod. Ever since, he'd been open, honest, finally blurting out over cake what had been bothering him for weeks.

After the family stared, then assured him they didn't care that he liked boys, the old Toby was back. It crushed her heart, to see his young face so distraught over realizing he was different than most kids in school, tugging him aside after her parents joined in on some conversations with friends, confirming what she suspected - he'd told some of his friends, who took the news badly, not wanting to speak to him any longer - and he'd withdrawn inside himself, lashing out, thinking he was somehow screwed up.

"Oh Tobes," she whispered, tugging him close, watching his face crumple. "Ignore them. That's _their_ problem, _not yours_. There's nothing wrong with you. You ever need a friend to talk boys with, call me, okay?" She whispered in his ear, smiling to hear a giggle and and then feel a nod from where his head was buried in her shoulder. After that, he'd asked to hook up the gaming system, spending the rest of the night embattled with other wizards and knights in a game. 

Hearing her cell chirping at her from the night stand by her head, she reached for it, puzzling at the number. It was the hiring service, and she answered, curious why they’d be calling, after everything went so smoothly. 

“Hello?”

“Miss Williams, we’re so sorry for not getting back to you!” The owner, Pat, launched immediately, her tone sounding frazzled. “We’re so sorry, we’ll offer a complete refund, and do next year’s for free, if you’re okay with that--”

“Wait,  _ huh? _ ” Sarah asked, sitting up in bed with a frown. “What do you mean? He came, it was perfect.”

“Now I’m confused,” Pat replied, her tone hesitant. “The actor never made it. He got food poisoning earlier in the day. You’re telling me someone made it?”

Sarah stilled, her eyes moving to the package she had yet to open, sitting by the wine glass. _No way, it couldn't be, not after all these years,_ she thought, hesitating. _Could it?_ Swallowing, she quickly apologized, wanting to tear open the package after getting the hiring service owner off the phone. “My mistake. No worries, keep the money. I’ll call you in the morning. Merry Christmas.”

Hanging up, she sat up, reaching for the package. With trembling fingers, she untied the delicate red ribbon, tugging the lid aside, staring into the small box the mystery Santa had given her. She thought back, to the few times Hoggle and the others had asked about him and how she'd felt. She hadn't had the courage at the time to admit she dreamed of him, thought of him often, burying it under hostile words and a scowl. They'd brought it - even if her heart hadn't. As the years went by, it pained her not to reach out to him, but when he never failed to do the same to her, she felt ashamed and saddened, worried she had missed her opportunity to tell him how she'd always felt. Holding her breath, she studied the contents of the box. 

Inside it, was a peach.

* * *

There was no demanding emergency when he arrived home, slumping across his throne in annoyance and a hint of sadness. He’d reported in to Mrs. Claus - who had finally found her errant husband, but not before they’d re-negotiated their contract, intending to report to her going forward - and everything had gone off without a hitch.

_ Well, not entirely,  _ he thought, boredly summoning a crystal in his palm.  _ I lacked nerve when I needed it most,  _ he thought glumly.

When they’d arrived back home, Hoggle had dashed out of sight, still traumatized at his time as a makeshift elf. Jareth, in such a dour mood, had barely noticed, only changing his attire and trailing into the quiet throne room, all his subjects asleep for the night. For once, he missed them.

“Well, this is a sight for sore eyes,” an all too-familiar voice mused from the door, making him jerk to a sitting position, the crystal falling from his grip, shattering across the floor and then turning to stardust, pulling his thoughts away from his depression.

There, across the room, was Sarah.

He didn’t know what to do, so he just stared, eyes wide, as she moved closer. She was dressed as before, her hair a little mussed, sexily strewn over her shoulders, clothes rumbled, telling him she'd been in her bed, about to fall asleep, when she showed up. Her eyes roamed the throne room, hovering on a few spots, until she stood close, at the base of the two steps that reached his dais, where his throne rested, holding him and his nervous struggle to appear unafflicted by her sudden appearance.

“How did you get here?” He asked, his words softer than intended. She smiled, canting her gaze towards him, taking one step up the stairs. He gulped, feeling his belly turn hot, his body hard, and hoped he once more looked like he had all those years ago to her - romantic, frightening, overwhelming - everything she ever wanted in one slim package. She certainly looked that way to him.

“Ludo, this time,” she replied, sliding her eyes over him. “You were the Santa I hired today. Why?”

“Filling in for the big man,” he replied with a shrug, making Sarah still, her eyes widening.

“He’s actually  _ real?  _ No fucking way,” she replied, freezing, and he almost regretted saying that. He shrugged again.

“He’s as real as I am, precious,” wincing briefly as that term of endearment slipped past him, watching her relax again, eyes roaming over him. It had been twelve years, after all, since they’d seen one another. Did she miss him as much as he’d missed her? Gods, she was beautiful. "As you age, your belief fades, as does the magic's hold. Most of the time, anyway." He smiled, motioning to where she stood in front of him, pointing out that he seemed to be the exception. _Thank Danu for that._

“His wife needed the assistance. He -  _ ah _ \- was on an unexpected holiday. If I don’t….” He continued on, gesturing around him, watching Sarah’s eyes widen as she got the picture. “..things get a little chaotic around here. More than normal, at least. Children without presents are...”

"Straight up savages," She supplied, making him chuckle. He nodded, watching as Sarah mulled over his words, seemingly struggling at what he had revealed to her, but then suddenly shrugged. “Okay. I believe you.”

He stared, shocked to see that she did, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And here you are,” he reminded her, tipping his head to the side. “Why?”

_ I'm so hopelessly in love with you, _ his mind raged, as he waited for her to answer. _Please tell me you feel the same._

A faint blush dusted her cheeks and he stared, fascinated.  _ Does that mean what I think it means? _ He hated to hope, but it burst forth from his chest, almost making him wince from the force of it. He noticed when she stepped back, towards the doors, failing to meet his eyes, something had frightened her. “Precious?”

Standing with a frown, he moved towards her, grabbing her elbow like she had done to his earlier, casting his eyes over her face, trying to decipher whatever was going on in her head, refusing to let her go. He tensed, his gut squeezing, as he latched onto what might have suddenly made her nervous, remembering that conversation he had eavesdropped on years ago. “If this is over the movie, I’m sorry, that man took it and ran with it, embellished it, and if I’d have known he had planned to do such a thing, I’ve have fixed it immediately, and--”

Suddenly, he couldn’t speak, realizing she had pushed up against him and kissed him soundly on the lips. A tidal wave of resulting lust washed up inside him, making him grab her and drag her close, eager to extend the small kiss into something more. 

She moaned, the sound like heaven to his ears, and he didn’t second guess himself, drawing her closer, so she could feel the response she was dragging out in him. She sighed, then reached up with her arms, wrapping them around his neck, her fingers fisting in his hair.

_ Dear Gods - FINALLY.  _ **_YES!_ **

Not even bothering to ask, he whisked them to the bedroom, tumbling with her into the bed.

* * *

Several hours and mind-numbing peaks later, they both lay panting, curled up against one another atop the sheets, letting the perspiration on their skin dry. Stroking the soft sable curls of her hair, he smiled. “Please tell me this means you're either in love or lust, I'm not picky at this point as to which, and that we can do this again. And again...and again…” He huskily commented, cupping her body next to him.

She laughed throatily in his ear, rubbing up against him. “Anytime, anywhere, Goblin King.” 

He grinned, dragging her close.

_ Ho Ho Ho.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said no more Labyfic for a while, which is mostly true. I started Labyfic with a Christmas challenge, so it felt right to do another, reflecting on how much my writing has changed since that first story.
> 
> Thanks for all who've tagged along with me over this past year. I cherish you all! Happy holidays, everyone!


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